In the middle of the gazebo stands a man, taller and more muscular than a mere mortal. His skin shines white and pale in the moonlight and I see that he is naked. I part my lips to say something but no words come out. That is most perplexing, because, as I entered the gazebo and left the gravel, the low heels of my sandals click-clack on the rough stone floor and I can clearly hear that, as well as the faint throbbing rhythm. He must have heard my footsteps, because he turns around to face me. I inhale deeply; he has every appearance of a Greek god come to life.His proportions are perfect. Not an ounce of fat is visible, unlike my 300-and then-some pounds husband, who is doing his best to improve the impression of a beached walrus every day. To be honest, my husband wasn't always like that; he was much sharper and more sophisticated when we got married, no twelve years ago. Nowadays making love with my husband is an ordeal and we do it only rarely. Not much is lost in that department;. ”“Does it help if I tell you I’ve never done anything like that with a guy before?”“Not much, though it helps.”“We could do it again.”“With a little warning, I could even try to reciprocate a bit.”“This is your warning, then.” She gave me a second and then really kissed me long and hard. I did help this time. Both of us were breathing heavily when we finally broke the kiss. Her mother was looking over from the front seat.She said, Claude, your daughter instigated it but he went along with that kiss pretty willingly. I think they are enamored.”He said, “I would hope so. I would hate for them to kiss like that and not like each other.”Claudette was grinning but sat back comfortably in my arms as we rode the rest of the way to the little train station.We picked up our tickets and got on the train. It was more like two trolleys connected together. The tracks were different and the conductor gal explained. “It’s a cog railway with a wheel like a bicycle hub that pulls the train along or.
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